Conviction
by hardly loquacious
Summary: You always could convince almost anyone of anything.  Post S3 Finale, and companion to "Judge Not."  Jane's POV.


A/N: So, this popped into my head yesterday, so I wrote it down (because I don't already have enough fic projects to work on). It's a companion piece to Judge Not from Jane's POV. It takes place right after Judge Not. It's in the same style (I'm finding I kind of like the second person for introspection). I hope you like it.

xxxxx

Conviction

xxxxx

You always could convince almost anyone of anything.

For a start, you're fairly certain that you've managed to convince a judge and jury that you don't deserve to go to jail after shooting a man in the centre of a food court.

No small accomplishment, even if that man was a serial killer.

But then, you're damn convincing.

It's a gift you've taken advantage of more than once in your life.

.

You've convinced people you could reach their loved ones from beyond the grave.

You've convinced people you could read their minds.

You've convinced people to give you their money, sometimes in huge amounts.

You've convinced people to give you a TV show.

You've convinced people to reveal their guilt.

You've convinced people to confide in you.

You convinced your wife to marry you.

You convinced the CBI that you were valuable.

You convinced your team that you belonged there.

.

People always say that you don't know what you've got until it's gone.

You're well aware of that.

First when your family was taken from you, then when you lost your liberty.

.

You found prison more restrictive than you were expecting.

You wanted out.

You wanted to live your life again.

It was surprising.

You didn't realize that you cared that much.

About anything.

Maybe you even convinced yourself that nothing mattered.

(You were wrong.)

.

You can convince almost anyone of anything.

But you've failed before.

You've been wrong before.

.

Your father. Your father saw through you. Your dear old Dad always knew you were little more than superficial polish on a kid with a few showy parlour tricks.

Maybe it was because your father was nothing but a two bit con-man himself.

Takes one to know one.

Danny recognized it too. Your brother-in-law. That man always knew you weren't good enough for his sister. And he resents you for what you did to her.

His sister. Your wife. Your Angela.

Now _she_ really knew you. Maybe she was one of the few people who did. That's partly why it hurt so much to lose her.

She saw the good in you.

Not everybody did.

Definitely not Red John. The serial killer. You've never been able to convince him of anything. Never were able to convince him something was true when it wasn't. Like your wife, you couldn't ever convince him you were something you were not.

But unlike your Angel, Red John only saw the worst.

.

Maybe the worst is over now.

You've shot the bastard, the man who taunted you with how your family _smelled_.

He deserved to die.

You're convinced of it.

You always could convince almost anyone of almost anything.

(Maybe even yourself.)

.

You catch Lisbon's eyes across the room as the verdict is read out in your favour, expecting to see relief, or pleasure, or affection.

You see none of those things.

Well, maybe a _little_ relief, a very little.

But even that is overshadowed by doubt and hurt and... resignation.

You see all that immediately at a glance.

Then, after that first split second, she cannot meet your eyes.

(_People always say that you don't know what you've got until it's gone.)_

.

The anger comes first.

You're annoyed.

Why is she upset?

She's shot loads of people before. She carries _three_ guns in her _car._

You've only shot two people, both of them criminals, murderers even.

She wasn't complaining last time it happened.

She has no right to be upset now.

(Even you know that argument's wrong on so many levels.

But you can' help it.

Your earlier self-satisfaction is slowly starting to sicken in your stomach.)

.

What would she have you do instead?

There was nothing else you could have done. Red John was standing _right there_. Baiting you.

And you even had a gun in your pocket.

There was only one choice.

You know that.

She knows that.

_You even told her that. _

This can't be a surprise.

_You told her what you were going to do._

(Why does that seem irrelevant now?)

.

You glance back over at her, ignoring the insincere well-wishes of your own lawyer. You don't care about him.

Suddenly all you care about is re-catching her attention.

You fail miserably in this oh-so-important goal.

She still refuses to meet your eyes.

Your heart stops.

.

_She cannot meet your eyes._

She looks away.

.

You could always convince almost anyone of anything.

But not her.

And you forgot that fact.

(You always forget about the important things, especially when they're inconvenient.)

.

She doesn't have many rules that you absolutely _can't_ bend in one way or another.

But she does have a few. Maybe only a couple actually.

And you think you've broken one now.

You think you might be done.

She might be done.

Lisbon.

Finished.

No.

She can't be.

.

Can she?

.

No.

_No._

You won't allow it.

That's... that's all there is to it.

You'll... What _will_ you do?

You'll talk to her.

Yes.

Explain.

After all, you always could convince almost anyone of almost anything.

.

Almost.

.

You thought you'd beaten the system, fooled everyone.

You didn't fool her.

(You rarely fool her. Not completely, and not for long.)

You realize a few things in that second when she glances away.

You realize that you may have lost her for good.

More importantly, you realize that you'd do anything to get her back.

Convince her she can trust you again.

But for the first time in your life you're not sure how.

.

You used to be able to convince almost anyone of anything.

Not this time.

So what are you going to do?

.

You used to be able to convince _almost_ anyone of anything.

You've just realized she's the only one you really care about.

Because you're so sick of doing this (_this_ _everything_) alone.

And that's what you are now.

Without her.

.

You stare at her for as long as you can, willing her to look back at you.

She doesn't.

And any remaining traces of your earlier triumph slow in your veins, freezing into dread.

.

You used to be able to convince almost anyone of anything.

Used to...

Used to...

.

Who are all these people? These smiling fools trying to shake your hand and congratulate you?

Don't they know you shot a man?

Oh god, you shot a man. The right one? You hope so. But now that Lisbon's eyes have opened the door of doubt in your brain, you're not quite as sure as you once were.

Who cares what the court thinks? You certainly don't.

You never have.

You only care about one person's opinion now.

.

You need to talk to her.

_You need..._

Why are these buffoons still in the way?

What do they want from you?

More convincing?

No.

They aren't the ones you need to convince.

.

You steel yourself for a fight, prepare yourself for a battle

She's moving away. (_She's moving away._)

She's _leaving._ Just like all the women in your life. (Was this his plan all along? No. _Oh no. Oh please no._)

You follow her, ignoring all the outstretched hands and false smiles on the way.

The back of her head means more than they ever could.

.

You admit there have been times when you couldn't convince people of something.

(Your father, your brother-in-law, your wife, your nemesis. Anyone who mattered.)

You refuse to think about that right now.

You _can't._

.

Remember, you can convince people of anything. _You can._

Repeat.

Again.

And again.

You puff up your chest, breathing in the false confidence of mental repetitions.

(You put your faith in biofeedback tricks. You have to.)

.

You used to be able to convince anyone of anything.

You used to be able to convince almost anyone of anything.

You used to be able to convince nearly anyone of anything.

You used to be able to convince some people of anything.

You used to be able to convince some people of some things...

You used to...

Why does anybody ever believe you again?

.

Remember.

Breathe.

Smile.

Walk.

.

You're _Patrick Jane, _the boy wonder, reader of minds, teller of fortunes, communicator with those beyond the grave.

No.

Lie.

All you've really got is a good eye for detail.

You notice things.

You're not as good as you thought though.

Not if you missed this.

.

Keep walking.

Look straight ahead.

You can catch up.

.

You're going after her.

_(You refuse to let Red John take her too.)_

You just need to get her back.

You _will_ get her back.

At least that's what you keep trying to convince yourself.

.

The End


End file.
